


Sollux: Go On Stupid Fetch Quest

by 2trangerMcDanger



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Mental Illness, OCD related events, Pitch gamsol if you squint too, Safe For Work, but its mostly sollux, mostly just fun, no romantic - Freeform, sfw, you could say there's some pale solrezi if you squint some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2trangerMcDanger/pseuds/2trangerMcDanger
Summary: It takes you way longer than youre willing to admit to walk up to the braindead clown, and actually talk to him, but you eventually do it. You were mostly in awe, watching him tie, and then untie, and then tie the drawstrings on his pants over and over again with the same dead expression on his face. God, do you really have to talk to him??xxxDraft 2
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Sollux: Go On Stupid Fetch Quest

The meteor has never been comfortable for you. Despite the fact that half of the whole crew has been complaining about it being too cold, and the other half saying “it’s fine! This is what it felt like for me at home! Water you complaining about!” That last one may have been slightly modified but it’s not a total fabrication. And it’s more telling when the people complaining are Karkat, yourself, Tavros, Nepeta and Kanaya (one could probably guess who’s the loudest of loud whiney bitchgrubs) and everyone else is completely fine, Feferi whines constantly about it being too _hot_ , go figure.

But no, that’s not why you find it incredibly uncomfortable here. It’s more centered around your own personal block that makes it hard to call this place even remotely close to home.

Each block was mostly empty when you first got here. All except a small kitchen for storing and cooking whatever you alchemized for eating, a reclining platform that extended out to accommodate for larger trolls (you saw them all the time back at home) and a recuperacoon, obviously. There _was_ a shared ablutions chamber, but the only ones who were comfortable using it where Makara, Nepeta, Equius and Feferi. The rest of you, rightfully so you’ll say, we're a little hesitant to start getting unclothed and vulnerable in front of people you didn’t really know all that well for the most part. So most of you snatched some of the showers and moved them to your own blocks, yourself included.

The point is, your coon is wrong. It’s so wrong that you can’t even bring yourself to lower yourself into it because it sets off a million alarms in your brain that drive you _crazy_ despite knowing that your brain is being a massive bitch and making a big deal out of nothing. It’s not a big deal that you only have one, and that it’s pale green like everyone else’s. You know that, you know it’s fine and that no one else has a problem with their’s being a little different from the ones at home, but you have a problem with it.

For the first few days, you didn’t think you’d be here that long, so you assumed you could just sleep on the platform. Not only were your sleepterrors even worse, but you started breaking out in rashes on your arms and throax from the itchy fabric. And your back would hurt _four_ times as much as it usually did because you’re basically sleeping on a piece of wood with some fluff, who the hell would find that comfortable. So after that, you started thinking of combinations. What could you combine with the slime to make it red and also blue respectively? You already made another full of the same icky green color, even if you don’t use _either_ of them.

So while you tried out some corners to sleep in, you thought up some ideas.

The next evening, you figured mixing a liquid with a liquid would work. But the only thing you can think of that’s blue in liquid form is—no you’ll find something else. You’ll start with red, you suppose.

Gamzee has faygo. Faygo is red.

\---

It takes you way longer than youre willing to admit to walk up to the braindead clown, and actually talk to him, but you eventually do it. You were mostly in awe, watching him tie, and then untie, and then tie the drawstrings on his pants over and over again with the same dead expression on his face. God, do you really have to talk to him??

“Hey uh, Makara I need—”

His gaze snaps up to meet yours. “Sollux! Me oh my, has it been a time. What bring your glorious motherfuckin’ twinkle spheres out to my part of the tracks.” When he’s standing, he’s much taller than you, not surprising, but at the moment, he’s sitting, legs criss cross while you stand in front of him, hands in your pockets.

“You know, I was getting to that. Maybe instead of being a rude piece of shit and letting people—” you take a deep breath as you stop yourself from going completely off the handle. Easy, Sollux. He might be more willing to hand over his stash if youre nice to him. Or at least _not_ mean to him. “I need Faygo. Do you have any?”

The look he gives you can only be described with overjoyed. His eyes and nose scrunch just a little from how wide he smiles. “Oh, for real, brother? I’ve been hearing you gettin’ all kinds of frustrated through these here walls and from your spot in the shared friendship room. I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d crack a cold one open with your good pal. Let’s go back to my place and we can share a true miraculous moment together, yeah?” He stands up and you try your best to make your body language as annoyed as you can, arms tightly crossed and foot slightly tapping.

“No, I’m not drinking it. And I’m definitely not drinking it with you. I just need it. Can you give it to me.” It’s not really a question, or a request. You now know he has it. The two of you are already making your way to his hive while you converse.

His expression folds up into something a little confused and disappointed, in the sad way. “You’re not drinkin’ the mirthful liquid? What are you plannin’ on using it for?” He’s suspicious now, good going, dipshit. You should’ve just accepted his offer in his block, and told him some bullshit, like you wanted your first ‘miracle’ to be in private, and he might be sad about it, but you’d have your juice and that’s what you _need_.

But now you’re worried he won’t hand it over. “It’s for scientific purposes.” You say bluntly, no point in hiding it, you already said you weren’t drinking it, but you also don’t feel the need to let him know you’re trying to change the color of sopor without sopor dyes or squeezing blood out of people you know

“Ahh, why didn’t you say so! I get it, I get it, your using all your big noise machines to calculate the beauty of it. Our nubby bro tells me all about your big eyes for discovery.” He punctuates this by opening his block and letting you in first, like you’re an esteemed guest in his humble abode.

And humble it is. There’s bottles _everywhere_ , pie tins with residue all over them, unicycles everywhere, clubs and holes in walls everywhere, you thought you were a mess. Suddenly you feel better about yourself. “Are other brothers n’ sisters gonna be partakin’ in it?” He says, opening up a big chest full of technicolored bottles as he digs through it.

Maybe now is the time to lie. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s—you’re exactly right.” Your hands fidget nervously in your pockets. It really makes you uncomfortable to be behind a closed door with this freak, but you try not to let it show.

Gamzee seems to like this answer, holding a bottle of…….purple faygo in front of you. He looks confused as to why you aren’t taking it from him as the shock seems to set in. You didn’t know there was other colors of Faygo.

“No, not that one. Red, I need _red._ ” You have to physically bite your tongue to keep from insulting him right to his face and smacking the bottle from him. Seriously, why would you want _any_ other color besides the ones you do _everything_ in! When have you ever—why would you—You’re too mad to even think correctly.

“Oh, you want the red mirthful juice?” His brows furrow together, makeup crinkling between them, he hums hesitantly. “I dunno, my brother. Red is my favorite. And our buddy Karbro won’t let me make nothin’ besides sopor, I’m runnin’ a little low on grist.” He holds the purple bottle defensively, like it’s his prized possession.

Without even thinking, you fumble out, “I’ll pay you, I’ll give you as much as you need to make more, I’m on a little bit of a time crunch right now, so I’d _really appreciate_ you giving me the _red_ liquid.” You over-enunciate the color to make it as transparently clear as fucking possible. Gamzee still seems hesitant, twisting and untwisting the bottle he’s holding before going back to his stash. “Alright, bro, you seems pretty motherfuckin’ serious. You’re lucky I was blessed with wonderous charitability. I know some motherfuckers who wouldn’t be so fast to hand over something so holy and precious to a motherfucker they don’t know as well,” he mumbles as he paws through what seems like way too many bottles. You’re not listening too carefully though, eyes trained on his hands.

He pulls the bottle out, and you watch as the red carbonation splashes against the sides and you feel relief for the first time in too long. He says some other things, but you quickly snatch it from him as soon as he holds it up to you, “thanks again, thanks for this, really appreciate it,” Leaves your mouth as you scamper out of his block and close the door behind you.

You can’t stop staring at the bottle while you walk to the alchemizer, a small sample of slime in your other hand. It’s not good slime, Gamzee needs the good slime, but you don’t care as long as it’s red. And then blue, later, but first things first.

You’ve heard lots of stories about how bad it tastes and even more stories from how wasted and stupid people get when they’ve had too much. There’s a sick curious part of you that says you won’t ever have this opportunity again, you should drink some and combine the rest with the slime, but the more rational part of you knows that Gamzee was pretty eager to hand the wrong color to you, so you could get smashed any other time, which is not now. It’s pretty easy to resist temptation.

The Alchemizer is a big clunky machine of which you have many, but they’re all kept in one room for convenience sake. It doesn’t matter which one you use, no one wrote their name or sign on any of them, and you have so much grist you don’t even know what to do with it. Besides this, of course.

You punch some numbers and commands into the machine and watch it do its work. It’s almost instanteous, which is great for a scientist like yourself, you’d probably rip your guts out if you had to wait any longer on this shit.

You almost explode with joy when you see your cup of sickly whitish green slime turn into a vibrant red color. You _do_ actually laugh a little as you scoop it up in your hands, but as soon as you dip your fingers in it, your expression sours significantly.

The consistency is very wrong. It’s too loose for slime and it’s very very sticky. Slime is usually sticky, but you can tell this is from the sugar in the Faygo. Not to mention it _smells_ like Faygo—no this is a fail, this is not a good outcome. You want to throw the fucking cup out into space or smash it against a wall, but you know better than to waste perfectly fucked up slime.

You think of giving it to Gamzee, thinking it might be “Faygo flavored slime” but the whole team has diluded all your slime with a chemical that agitates his stomach for the explicit purpose of deterring him from eating it so you all have _something_ to sleep in. So it would just be cruel to give him something he loves but can’t eat. Cruel and not in the fun way like you are to KK.

So you give it to Terezi.

You try to explain the situation as to why you _have_ red slime, but she already snatched it out of your hands the moment you held it up to her. She quickly learns that it’s slime when she licks it and makes a grossed out face.

“I should’ve expected as much from you, Appleberry. Couldn’t even go a single day without your fancy expensive stuff, could you?” She holds the cup close to her face so she can smell as she naturally breathes. Your face heats up some, and it makes her laugh.

“I guess if you want to put it that way, yeah, I couldn’t. But it should be known for the records that I did try, so jot that down.” The two of you are in the recreational area, the Friendship Room, the common center, it all means the same thing, but youre both alone, surprisingly. It’s rare that you get any peace and quiet in this place. You’re both sitting next to _one_ of the horn piles Gamzee has made, but not on it because, ew, you like TZ but not like that.

“What record am I jotting this down to?” she sidles closer to you, keeping her arms tucked neatly around her cup, while your elbow is on your knee and your face smushed against your fist in defeat.

“I dunno, the record of Sollux Being The Saddest and Stupidest Idiot in All of Paradox Space? Is that a record?”

“It is now.” She laughs, “There’s only the one note on it, maybe it’s because you’re not all that bullshit you said.”

“I am, no one’s been keeping track of it.”

“You probably just need another sample of color. Something without so many ingredients in it. Like water.”

“That doesn’t make sense, if it’s not a liquid how would it be able to mix with the slime? Solid’s just fuck with the texture, not the color, or they make the object out of slime which is equally wrong and awful.” You flop a little lazily against her and she adjusts for comfort.

“Well have you tried a gas?”

“Real funny, TZ, where am I gonna find a red—” you stop in the middle of your sentence and bite your lip in thought. Red gas, red particles, red powder, RED POWDER! You bolt up and shout “That’s it!” eyes wide with realization. “Terezi I need your chalk, _now_. A lot of it.” You’re excited now, even bouncing a little with anticipation of your newly discovered idea.

She laughs at your sudden change of mind, shoving you playfully. “Sure thing, asshole, you gave me something fun to play with for a little while, I’d say it makes us almost even.”

You’re okay with getting just a teensy bit sidetracked. “Almost even? Does that mean I’ll owe you?”

“I want to borrow your glasses for a few nights.”

“For wh—are you gonna eat them?”

“Not entirely! I promise I won’t break them, and if I do, I’ll fix it before you know about it.” She’s got a big toothy grin that makes your pumper swell just the tiniest of tiny bits. You sigh in defeat as you flick your glasses off and hand them too her. “Just don—”

The first thing she does is dip them into the slime and sniff and lick at the blue side. You make a sad, disgusted face, but you gave them to her, it’s your fault.

She gave you all of her red and blue chalk she had on hand and, wow, it’s a lot, you’re not even sure if you’ll need this much, but she said she had no issue with giving it to you. It must be cheap or she just has that much of it, hoarding it like a—you walked right into that one, didn’t you.

Regardless, you start grinding it up into the finest of fine powders, and instead of combining them through the machine, you take another small sample of slime, and mix the powder into it. It takes an alarming amount of powder to turn it into the correct shade of red, and it does thicken it up quite a bit, but you use the same substance you normally use to dilute it to the right consistency.

A smile is plastered on your face the entire time you stir more and more. Before you do anything, you mix the blue one as well, and finally, you feel complete. It’s like you’ve had a terrible, terrible itch on the most impossible part of your back and it’s finally been scratched.

You get the recipe to make more chalk from Terezi and make as much as you calculated you’ll need to fill both of your ‘coons and it feels wonderful, sinking into it. You chose the blue one, just because you’ve been staring at red for almost three days now, and it’s giving you a headache, a headache that is immediately soothed as soon as your let yourself become _completely_ enveloped, it feels so nice.

\---

The next evening, when you wake up, you feel great, well rested for the first time since you started the game. The shower you take to wash off the slime, and getting dressed is mostly a blur, so relaxed and calm from your wonderful slumber, you feel like you’re just gliding through consciousness. You should binge on misery more often if this is what peace feels like. You’re sure to use the rest of whatever chalk you had to write down the recipe for the slime on your walks so you don’t forget it, and it feels even more like home now. You feel good, you feel happy.

A sharp pounding on your door causes you to snap what you’ve known come to know as your newest best friend, Chalky, killing him instantly, and suddenly you’re reminded that you’re not alone on this rock, you have friends that hate you and that you hate.

Karkat greets you when you open the door, “Finally, you stupid fuck, I’ve been trying to get in touch with—” And then he erupts in laughter, laughing so hard he has to hold himself up against the door frame to keep from falling over.

“KK I know you love making me feel terrible and embarrassed about myself, but tonight is not the night you’re gonna win, I’m in _such_ a good mood right now, even our usual childish banter couldn’t take me off my now self-righteous pedestal of feeling great right now.” You cross your arms casually to emphasize how above it all you are.

“Y-youre feeling good? Wow, could’ve fooled me, cause you’re—” He can’t even get a full sentence out, tears are streaming down his face, “cause you look positively _blue_ , my good buddy. Have you even seen yourself?? What the fuck dude, you look like a shirt dipped in the shittiest tie dye.”

“What?” you mumble and dart inside to look at the mirror right by your shower and he’s right, your skin is stained blue from your ‘coon. It’s a little patchy in some places, where you may have scratched or scrubbed yourself, but you still look an awful shade of muck-greenish blue from your natural complexion showing through. It’s mostly concentrated from your neck-down as you must have tossed and turned in your sleep, getting more blue as you got closer towards your feet.

You failed again.

Karkat follows you to laugh at you more, but you’re not listening to whatever he’s saying. If he weren’t here, you’d want to curl up into a ball of misery and weep your sorrows away, but since he _is_ here, you manage to angrily scrub most of the color off your face while the two of you bicker insistently, and you eventually tell him of your woes and misfortune.

It’s back to the drawing board. 


End file.
